


Crimson painted

by Chromomanticore



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Biblical References, Blood and Gore, Denial, Humor, M/M, Scars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-09 06:31:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18911479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromomanticore/pseuds/Chromomanticore
Summary: There were some things that shouldn't be true.Joker shouldn't be getting hurt without Bruce around.Bruce shouldn't be caring about anything that happened to Joker.They shouldn't not be perfection personified. But then again, weren't they?





	1. Chapter 1

     The first time Bruce saw them was in Arkham records after the lunatic's first imprisonment and he felt nothing but mild curiosity. Joker had a lot of scars.

Underneath flashy outfits, colorful make-up, curly forest green hair and a goddamn lot of deranged laughter, the madman was but a man. A messy mix of way too long bones, wirey muscles which really shouldn't be able to generate as much force as they did and skin. Absurdly white, alabaster skin which had no right to cover a heart even half as twisted. And on that paper-coloured canvas, like strokes of a masterful artist, laid out marks.

Bruises, in all spectrum of colours, but mostly in his signature purples and greens, bloomed all over Joker's body like fields of flowers in spring. 

Cuts, vivid and sanguine, run through every avalaible area, carrying the life-bringing torrents, akin to rivers and streams.

And on top of them all laid scars. Marred flesh was the only permanent element of this ever-changing landscape, the way it unexpectedly differed in texture from surrounding snowy white plains greatly similar to rocks buried deep in the otherwise smooth ground.

Bruce knew that painting by heart. He was responsible for most of wounds that appeared on the clown and as for those he wasn't, he always made sure to track the source of clowns injuries. Not that he cared. It just seemed... inappropriate not to know who hurt the madman. Which is why those two specific scars intrigued him at first. They didn't match the rest of the painting.

They were at his back, two massive round marks, perfect mirror reflections, one on each shoulder blade. Seeing their age, Bruce deduced that they must be a remnant of whatever person Joker was before. And that was it.

* * *

   Second time Bruce saw them, that curiosity morphed into rage.

Because the wounds reopened. Because at some point of their fight Bruce noticed the blood soaking through the jester's torn shirt, his suit lost in the earlier struggle. Because he knew, just knew, that he wasn't the one responsible for that.

"What the hell happened to your back, clown?" He growled.

 At first, Joker seemed genuinely perplexed,his rapid movements suddenly slowing down, brows furrowed in confusion. Clown Prince of Crime reached behind his back to touch the shoulders and it really didn't take world's greatest detective to realize that the emotion that shown on his face was fear.

A primal, piercing panic seemed to overwhelm the madman as he backed away from Bruce, pupils dilated in horror.

"Oh, that? Dont you worry, Bats, nothing to be jealous of! Not much more than lovebites."

The clown giggled, tension easily betrayed by his crunched shoulders. He licked his lips.

"Joker, be serious for once. You're blee-" The Caped Crusader didnt get to finish the sentence as he was suddenly interrupted.

 "C'mon now, Bats! It's not like you havent caused me to bleed worse. Cut the crap."

And really was there anything that Bruce could say to that?  So yeah, maybe he went a bit easy on Joker later and  possibly even didn't pursue him after he leapt from the roof and dashed into the surrounding alleys. 

Well, he would deny anything if asked, so really, what difference did it make?

* * *

    Third time. All the hot rage cooled down and froze into confused worry.

It was supposed to be a quick, smooth action. Due to some info leak from one of his henchmen, Bruce managed to track down the Joker's latest hideout. He had the layout perfectly memorized, neighbourhood checked and pretty much nothing to worry about as he crouched down on a nearby gargoil.

That is, nothing except from an unexpected sight of his nemesis undressing, which was precisely what greeted him as he looked through his binoculars. 

There was something holy in the way the pale man slowly uncoveiled himself from underneath the layers of clothing. When Bruce got there, his tie and gloves were already gone, lean white fingers slowly unbuttoning the plum jacket.

As the purple fabric slid down the sharply edged frame and hit the floorboards, Caped Crusader felt any ability to move drain away from him. The Clown Prince of Crime stood with his back to the window, in front of him however stood a full body length mirror, which made it possible for Bruce to see every expression that crossed his face.

Right after the jacket came the vest, acid green striped fabric a perfect match with the jester's eyes. It was taken off quickly and without much consideration, but Bruce stil wasn't able to not look at it as a glorified, even sacramental act. 

The shirt, quite an out of character touch, was heban black. Bruce wasn't forced to wonder about that for long though, because as soon as it was taken off, this time in one decisive, shrug movement, from underneath it peeked out white skin covered in bandages.

They snug tightly all around Joker's torso and shoulders, yet it was pretty evident which area they were meant to cover. Blood nearly seeped through them in two crimson circles, akin to a pair of eyes. It was possible to see the sigh that escaped the madman's mouth and Bruce, _godhelphim,_  had to fight with himself not to close his eyes just to get away from the reality in which there was something capable of making that man in front of him worry.  In the long run, it probably would've been the best thing to do, because the only alternative to fleeing from such reality was figthing it. Burning it to the ground.

And really, the world tied itself to the stake the moment the Joker removed the bandages. Their linen eyelids suddenly taken away, the bloody eyes snapped open, showing Bruce their white pupils.

Perfectly clean bone, circled by the aureola of muscles and flesh, the wounds gave the impression that the meat in their area was surgically removed, all the way down to the shoulder blades.

That picture lasted but a flash though. The very next moment, probably due to the rough friction caused by the removal of bandages, the white voids filled with blood.

And as the crimson eyes cried their crimson tears, Bruce found himself crying with them.  


	2. Chapter 2

In the weeks following the um... invigilation incident, (it took a _lot_   of effort not use the term 'voyeurism'), Bruce spent most of his time performing a massive shakedown amongst Joker's followers.

He tracked down any henchman he could think of, checked every known hideout and went through Arkham records more times than any of the mandman's therapists. And nothing.

Not much to his surprise, the thugs were ignorant and the bases were cleaned. Lack of anything useful from the Asylum was a bigger let-down, but really what did he expect from that facility? Any report of clown's wounds was quite obviously fabricated, not only missing those on his back, but also quite a few others which the Dark Knight could clearly remember causing.

After all other options were exhausted, he even went to see Quinn. It turned out to be surprisingly difficult, especially considering the woman's  not-exactly-high intellect and love of flair, but he finally managed to track her down in some run-down motel in the Narrows. 

The place was a mess, a shabby mixture of plastic decorations, fading paint and creaking floor belonging to a motel that went by the name of Yellow Flamingo. Walls in Harley's rented room were in a disgusting shade of pink and Bruce really wished that upon entering he wouldn't be forced to see that her underwear matched them.

He coughed loudly after sneaking in through the window causing the blonde to jump in fright rapidly turning away from the dishes she was washing in the sink and dropping  a plate in the process.

"Bats! Jesus fucking Christ! You have to stop doing shit like that to people! Sooner or later someone's gonna have a heart attack and that's a really dumb way for you to have your first kill." Harley stepped over the porcelaine remains left on the floor all the while eyeing the vigilante warily.

"Whadya want from me anyway? I haven't done anything for a couple of months now if you haven't noticed and I aint gonna get myself involved because of ya."

"I'm not bringing trouble Dr. Quinzel. I need some information about Joker and before you ask, it's not about his criminal activities, so it shouldn't be neither troublesome for him nor dangerous for you." Batman said, trying his best not to give away the annoyance that built up in him as he watched the ex-psychiatrist clean up all the while 'unknowingly' wiggling her butt at him.

"Well, if that's the case, sure, why not. Anything to keep you off my head." 

"Great, than let's get on with it. I need you to tell me about the cause of one of his injuries. A pair of wounds on his back to be exact." _That_ caused the clown woman to change the attitude. She slowly straighened up and turned to him, her face expressing seriousness he didn't consider her capable of.

"Yeah...no.  Look Bats, I don't mind helping you a bit, but I'm not going to get myself killed for you. So just let me tell you this: you might be the reason behind Mr. J's worst anger feats, but those things are a close second. I learnt my lesson last time when I wanted to learn anything about them and nearly lost a hand for it."

Seeng as their wasn't anything to gain from further conversation, Bruce left Quin's apartament. Surprise, surprise, she turned out to be useless. Well, she did manage to make one thing clear for him. Whatever the story behind Joker's wounds was, it was something important to him. And insane as he was, there was no way the clown let someone else learn a secret, if he truly wished to keep it.

Which only left him one option. If he wanted answers, he had to get them from the Joker himself.

* * *

 Finding the Clown Prince of Crime was easy. It just so happened that the last time he, um, invigilated the criminal's hideout, Bruce didn't finally interfere. Due to that no alarm had been set off and he was able to pin Joker down there.

World's greatest detective smashed through the window, ready to face any surprises thrown at him. It just so happened that he didn't feel like condoning a proper observation this time around.

It took less than five seconds for the Joker to arrive in the room, eyes full of glee and scarlet mouth twisted into a toothy grin.

"Darling! What brings you here? I'm pretty sure I haven't killed, blowned up or threatened anyone in a while, so this must mean that you missed the good ol' me? Truly, I'm touched." The madman cakled happily, his hand fiddling with a purple butterfly knife.

"Not really. I need you to tell me something." Batman growled.

"Oh, but of course! Anything for you, my overgrown rodent. But, just so you know, I wouldn't like this relationship to be, onesided. So sure, I'll help, but you oughta give me something, um, adequate in return."Bruce frowned, already feeling what a headache this was going to be. God, why was he even doing this?

_....crimsoncrimsoncrimson eyes, tears, pearls, tears, painting full of changes, an alley in the middle of the night..._

Oh, right. Because of that. 

"I won't hurt anyone for you, but other than that, fine. You have my word."

The maniac's face lit up like a Christmas tree. There was something absolutely breathtaking in the way his lips curved up in a childish, excited smile. Something devastatingly stunning in the fact that while childish, that grin was still malicious and cruel, setting the world on fire and than hopping around it, clapping to accompany the screams.

"Wait, really? Damn, you must really be desperate. Shoot than, what is it?" 

"Joker I... I need you to tell me about the wounds on your back. You know which ones I'm talking about."

And suddenly, the Christmas tree withered. The madman's smile fell, his face devoid of any emotions.

"Trust me Bats, that's not a price you're willing to pay. Now get out. I suddenly don't feel like dancing anymore." He said in a flat voice, before unceremoniusly turning his back to the detective and marching to the door.

Bruce watched the pale man leave and felt the weight pressing down on his chest. This was something important to Joker, yet he wanted to keep it away from him, even going as far as to deny a carte blanche favor. He couldn't just let it go.

"What's the price?" The question was asked quietly and only after a moment the vigilante realized that he was the one to ask it.

Joker slowly turned to face him, a sad, gentle smile on his lips. Something akin to a surprised, unsure hope shown itself in his eyes.

"Everything, Bats. Everything. Though just for you, I think I could settle for  _your_ greatest secret. Let me see what's behind the mask."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup, I made another chapter. It slowed down a bit compared to the first one, but we can't all start with an earthquake and build up from there.  
> All reviews are loved and deeply appreciated :)

**Author's Note:**

> So...  
> This happened.  
> I don't know where it came from, though i have an idea where it's heading.  
> I would be really grateful for any sort feedback, so please comment?


End file.
